by Sky Corgan
Both of them had given me a good look over, which made my cheeks grow warm. Would I be punished for blushing? I wondered. Probably not, if Damien didn't see it. How could he punish me for blushing anyway? It's not like I could control it. Besides, this was all new and strange for me. Surely, he understood I wouldn't react to it the same way as someone who had done this a dozen times before.
As I reached the kitchen, the smell of meat filled my nostrils. On the menu tonight was a light garden salad followed by beef wellington and mashed potatoes. Dessert would be crème brulee garnished with fresh strawberries. My mouth watered just watching the chef prepare the food. His mouth was watering for another reason.
When Damien introduced us, he seemed embarrassed to look upon my mostly nude body, but the second it was just him and I alone in the kitchen, all modesty went out the window. His eyes were glued to my breasts, watching my every move. The tent in his pants was apparent, and I could only imagine that his mind was far from cooking. To be honest, I was more uncomfortable around him than anyone else. Damien's friends were accustomed to seeing the naked bodies of strangers, and they handled it with tact. This guy looked like he had never seen a pair of large tits in his entire life.
Trying to ignore the pervert in the kitchen, I went about my duties, thinking about how I wasn't going to be able to partake in the meal until after everyone had left. Damien didn't want me eating before the guests arrived because he was concerned it would bloat me and make me look less appealing. It was kind of a rude assumption, but I could understand. After all, as he had said, tonight was largely about showing me off, so he wanted me to be as perfect as possible.
Walking in the heels and ankle cuffs was a real pain in the ass. By the time half of the guests had arrived, my feet were aching, but I knew I had to press on.
It wasn't long before I had gotten into the swing of things. The guests were all talking to each other, hardly even acknowledging my existence past the point of me greeting them at the door. To be honest, despite the pain in my feet, I was actually starting to have fun. Instead of pretending to be a waitress, as Damien had suggested, I imagined I was a penguin, waddling around, listening to conversation but unable to say anything because, after all, penguins can't talk.
My parade got rained on when Mistress Danica arrived. She had come alone, and looked equally as seductive and stunning as the time I had met her. When I opened the door, she made no attempt to hide that she was looking me up and down. To my surprise, she even reached out and groped one of my breasts. I gasped in shock, and she just giggled.
“Nice and supple,” she commented with a grin as she handed me her coat. It was large and expensive looking, red fur with streaks of black, probably fox, though I couldn't be sure. Fur coats had never been appealing to me. They looked nice, but I didn't like the idea of killing an animal just for its skin. I thought about peaking at the tag to see if it was faux, but that would have been rude.
Beneath the coat was a sexy black vinyl corset trimmed in red. Danica's breasts were pushed up high, threatening to spill out. There was no doubt in my mind that Damien would be glancing at them again, and that made jealousy rip through me like shards of glass. Hopefully, he'd be looking at me more. After all, I was the topless one.
The corset was complimented with tight leather pants and finished off with vinyl boots that had heels every bit as tall as mine. All in all, she was the only one at the party who looked the part of her BDSM role. She was dominatrix, Domme, Mistress, through and through.
I tried not to frown as I led her to the rest of the guests, watching Damien's eyes as soon as he came into sight. He seemed to light up when she stepped into the room. Then again, so did every other guy. She was sex on legs, and it pissed me off.
By the time I was sent to fetch her a bottle of water, I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. No, Chey. Not now. Don't get upset. She hasn't done anything. You can't let this get to you. Nothing is going on between them.
They had hugged though, too tightly, for too long. And he had glanced at her breasts. And she had fucked him with her eyes. I could see it all, even if they didn't know I was watching.
When I got to the kitchen, I lingered there for a while, trying to recompose myself. Why do you let this woman have such of an effect on you? She's the past. You're the now. Nothing is going on between them.
The pervert cook stared at me, licking his lips as if I was more delicious than the food. Why doesn't Damien look at me like that? I want him to look at me like that. Not her.
It couldn't be helped though. Whatever went on between them tonight, whatever looks that they gave each other, whatever subtle touches she tried to get away with, I would have to endure it—endure it for him, because this is what he wants. This is what will make our relationship stronger. And this will show her that I am better for him than she ever was.
I took a deep breath, straightened myself, and strode out of the kitchen . . . well, waddled out of the kitchen, with as much confidence as I could muster. Danica had integrated herself with the group, talking and laughing. Thankfully, guests had already filled up the seats closest to Damien, so she was a safe distance away. That made me feel a little better.
After handing Danica the bottle of water she had requested, I did my best to ignore her until the other guests arrived. Thankfully, she was a slow drinker, so I didn't have to attend to her.
It wasn't much longer before everyone showed up. There were twelve people, including Damien, which was easy enough to keep up with. I spent a good amount of time parked, which allowed me to listen in on the conversation. One of the Doms said he was having a large dungeon built on his property and would be holding a play party when it was finished. Damien told him we would attend, which gave me something else to both look forward to and dread.
Finally, Damien called everyone into the dining room for dinner. I did my duty filling up glasses before going to retrieve the salads. The serving was slow, since I wasn't a practiced waitress and could only carry two bowls at a time. If I had full use of my arms, I might have been able to manage more, but I didn't want to chance it.
I shuffled along, serving Damien first and then making the clockwise rotation, clanking as I went. Oddly, this was when everyone started to feel the need to touch me. One of the Domme's poked at me when I placed her salad in front of her. It was strange to be touched in such a way, and I honestly didn't know how to react, so I just finished what I was doing and continued on as if nothing was happening to me at all.
By the time the first course was served, the people who had initially received their salads were already finishing. Apparently, it wasn't proper etiquette in the BDSM circle to wait until everyone had been served before they started eating. Bored with waiting, one of the Dom's called me over. I thought he wanted a different beverage, but as soon as I flanked his side, he pulled his chair out, grabbed me by the wrist manacles and yanked me down over his lap.
My gasping was met with a round of light laughter from the rest of the party. Nervously, I glanced over at Damien, who looked back at me with a deadpan expression before continuing his conversation with the Dom to his left. Others whispered their amusement about how I was in trouble.
I turned to look at the man who had captured me right before I felt the first smack across my ass. He rubbed my cheeks between slaps, alternating them. The pressure was light but pleasurable, and I felt myself becoming aroused, enjoying the spanking, wishing he would do it harder.
A hand tangled into my hair, gripping me harshly and drawing my head forward. That's when I realized who the hand belonged to. Danica stared down at me with dominant eyes. I wanted to be angry at her for touching me, but the forcefulness of it coupled with the spanking only worked to arouse me more.
Oh God, what's wrong with me? I shouldn't be liking this. This woman is my enemy, but. . .
“You're such a cute little thing,” she said. “You like having that ass spanked, don't you?”
I nodded, tensing up as I fel
t my underwear being pulled down. My backside was full of heat, my body quickly flooding with lust. In that moment, they could have done anything they wanted to me. I was a slave to my desire.
Despite my anticipation, everything was over almost as soon as it had begun. Danica released my hair, and the gentleman whose lap I had been leaning over pushed me back up, practically forcing me to stand. I wasn't sure what to do, and it took a moment of staring blankly before my legs began to work again. Instinctively, I reached down to pull up my underwear, but one of the Domme's called to me not to touch them, so I let them fall, further impeding my movement as they caught on my ankle cuffs.
Before long, I was in the grasp of another Domme. This one thought it would be fun to claw her nails across my ass. The pressure she used was far from pleasant, and it made me remember scratching down Damien's back, how I had made him bleed. If it felt anything like this, then I couldn't imagine him enjoying it. Then again, he was also distracted by sex at the time. I had nothing to distract me from what was being done. That was, until the Dom I was facing began fondling my breasts.
This was attention I had expected to receive in the living room, not in the dining room where everyone was hungry and waiting on food. Apparently, their hunger extended beyond food, and touching my flesh was more important. It was a flattering thought, though I still didn't know what to make of everything that was going on. I had never imagined I would allow so many strange people to touch me like this—that I'd actually enjoy it.
I was breathing heavily by the time the Domme was finished with me. She had clawed and spanked my ass until it burned something fierce. While I didn't dare to take the time to look over my shoulder, I could only imagine that my ass was a mess of pink welts and hand prints.
Throughout the entire serving experience, I was subjected to spankings, breast groping, and nipple pinching. By the time the dinner was over, there wasn't a person in the room who hadn't touched me . . . except for Damien. He kept his hands to himself, watching me move around the room as if what was going on wasn't phasing him at all.
When the guests retired to the living room, I cleared the table and then hung out in the kitchen for a while to reflect on everything. The chef was washing the dishes, but he still ogled me between plates, making it hard for me to focus.
The blonde woman touched me. She touched me and I liked it. The thought absolutely repulsed me. Though I considered myself bi-sexual, and I did find Danica attractive, I couldn't picture her as anyone but the enemy.
I had liked a lot of the other things that had gone on too though, the groping and the spankings. What did that say about me? I wasn't sure, but it was making me confused and a bit emotional.
Don't analyze this now. If you spend too much time thinking about it, you'll never get through the night. All that's left is your performance. You can do this.
I took a deep breath and headed back into the lion's den, filling up cups and trying to psych myself out for what was to come by going over all the positions in my head. This was the last part I needed to get right. Then the party would be over, and I could sort out my feelings.
As soon as all the beverages were refreshed, Damien announced it was time for my demonstration. I noticed that Danica had managed to worm her way closer to him, which filled me with discontent, though there was nothing that I could do about it. Obediently, I took center stage in the middle of the living room and waited for my first command while the party goers watched me intently.
“Come,” Damien said, and I waddled over to him.
To my relief, he extracted a set of keys from his pocket and released me from my bondage. Of course, it made sense, because I couldn't perform most of the positions without full mobility. When he unfastened my ankle cuffs, he took my underwear with them, leaving me naked except for the high heels. Then he sent me back to the center of the room to await his next command.
“Pleasure yourself,” he told me.
That wasn't a position I remembered. In fact, it wasn't a position at all. For a moment, I was confused, standing there dumbstruck. The rest of the party watched me in anticipation, whispering to one another. Damien's gaze was steel, never breaking, looking on expectantly.
He wants me to obey. This is what he meant by demonstrating my obedience. It had nothing to do with positions.
My chest felt tight, and I was suddenly afraid. There were so many eyes on me, crawling all over me, soaking in every centimeter of my flesh. What he was asking of me was to share something very personal with the entire room. I didn't think I could go through with it.
“It's alright, sweetie,” one of the Doms tried to comfort me. “We're not going to bite.”
“Let's see that cunt,” another one said, his tone every bit as vulgar as his words.
I looked to Damien for protection, but he just nodded.
With a deep breath, I crouched down, bowing my legs and exposing myself to the room for their viewing pleasure. Unpleasant emotions raged through me. Fear, embarrassment, guilt, confusion. I tried my hardest to pretend I was alone. Then again, if I was alone I wouldn't be in such an awkward position.
It won't take long. Just get it over with, and they'll leave. If you stop now, it's all over for you and Damien. If you embarrass him, he'll disown you.
The thought spurred me on to slip a hand between my legs, rubbing my fingers back and forth across my slit, though I derived no pleasure from it. My mind was constantly vigilant of the eyes upon me.
“At least pretend you're enjoying it,” the vulgar man said.
“Spread those pussy lips. Let's see what's inside,” Danika told me.
I took her advice, scissoring my fingers to expose my inner workings, though I couldn't force myself to look happy about it.
“That's a good girl,” Danica continued, “Now rub yourself and moan a bit.”
For as much as I hated the woman, I desperately needed the direction. I did as I was told, rubbing and moaning and faking it.
“Now rub those titties,” someone else said, and I followed their command too, groping my breasts.
Despite my nervousness, my body seemed to be responding well enough. My nipples were perked, hard nubs beneath my fingertips. Each gently pinching and rolling of them caused a shot of need to travel straight to my cunt, and eventually I began relaxing and actually wanting to touch myself. Having a wanton body has its advantages, I supposed.
Finally able to get into it, I put both hands on my breasts, kneading them, pressing them together, pulling them apart, and then going back to tease my nipples. My body seemed to be on sensitivity overdrive under the watchful eyes of my voyeurs, and I found myself growing greedy, wishing someone would come and take one of my nipples in their mouth, or stuff their fingers into my wet cunt. Of course, my first thought was of Damien. Oddly, the second person I fantasized about was Danica. Then I went around the room, picturing all the different faces there pleasuring me. When I tweaked one of my nipples, it was someone else's hand touching me. When I rubbed tight circles over my clit, I imagined it was one of the Dom's tongues. Soon, the moans were genuine as I let myself fall further into sexual oblivion, drowning out everyone around me, filling my head with fantasy.
“Now get on your hands and knees and finger yourself,” the vulgar man said, drawing me from my thoughts only long enough for me to switch positions.
Shamelessly, I turned my ass to the audience, resting my head on the carpet and spreading my legs while I reached a hand around to tease my hole. My index finger slipped inside with ease thanks to the wetness that had amassed from earlier pleasure. I groaned as my inner channel squeezed around it, massaging the intruder. For several minutes, I fingered myself, varying the strokes. It wasn't enough stimulation though, and soon I was pulling the finger out to rub across my clit, bringing the waves of my orgasm to the surface.
“Requesting permission to come, Sir,” I said.
“Permission denied,” Damien replied.
My hand withdrew from my cunt, allowing
my pleasure to subside while I changed positions. I figured it was as good a time as any to transition. Again and again, I brought myself close to orgasm, stopping at Damien's command.
After a while, Damien left the room, returning with a thick red dildo and a bottle of lube, which he handed to me. My cheeks grew warm as I looked at the dildo. The thing was thicker than his cock, and longer too. There was no question about what he wanted me to do with it.
I returned to my original crouching position, scanning the guests for their reaction. Most of them looked on intently, awaiting my next move. Some of the Dommes and submissives were less interested though, chatting among themselves.
The vulgar man seemed the most interested, the one who had spanked me while Danica held my hair. He was slightly younger than Damien, with equally dark features, but not half as handsome. On his arm was a young woman, probably his submissive, who seemed almost frightened of him. She had avoided making eye contact with anyone the entire time they had been at the party and barely spoke a peep. Neither of them had been at the munch.
“Suck on it first,” he instructed, staring at me as if he was picturing the dildo as his cock instead of just a toy.
I gazed right back at him as I brought it up to my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tip. Then I licked up the side of it and moaned, making wet noises as I sucked it into my mouth. My strokes were purposely slow, and every time I reached the tip, I glanced at the vulgar man to make sure he was still watching. He was, fucking me with his eyes. To be honest, it was refreshing to seduce someone else, though I knew I should feel guilty. But if Damien wasn't upset about it, then I didn't see the harm.
Getting even more into it, I slid my free hand between my legs and began rubbing again, gyrating my hips in an unnecessarily exaggerated manner, as if it would help to get me off faster. Occasionally, I would shake out my hair to get it away from my face, making an all out sexual spectacle of myself.
